The Pen is Mightier
by Moonlit Aura
Summary: Princess Tutu X Harry Potter crossover. What possible influence can a writer and a duck have in the fight against Voldemort? But then, some characters defy and overcome their roles...
1. Chapter 1

"Finally, we have a late student, whose power has been suppressed since he was born, only to awaken recently

Okay, so this is the start of a crossover I've been playing around with. This first chapter is just to see how people will respond to it, and weather it is worth posting. As a warning, if I do continue it, updates will be sporadic, as _Restoring Faith_ is still me main project. This is more of a vent.

Disclaimer: I don't own either _Harry Potter_ or _Princess Tutu_ and am making no money from this project. I know this. You know this. I won't say it again.

The Pen is Mightier

_Teaser_

"Finally, we have a late student, whose power has been suppressed since he was born, only to awaken recently. He will join the sixth-years, and I hope you will all look after him."

Harry stared as the Headmaster beckoned someone from one of the side doors of the hall. As the young man emerged, all eyes turned to him, and the boy sent a sharp glare towards the student body. Many girls, who had been drooling over the boy's long black hair and piercing green eyes, fell back, as if struck, while most of the guys felt an instant dislike for the hostile boy.

"Schreiber, Fakir," McGonagall called out sharply. The boy, Schreiber, swiftly approached the stool where the Sorting Hat sat, one hand clutching something beneath his robes. Fluidly, he moved to the stool and sat stiffly as the Hat was placed on his head.

He sat there for a while, and Harry began to wonder if there had finally been a mistake. A glance at Hermione's face showed the same worry, and Harry remembered his own fear that he would be sent home when he had tried on the Hat.

But Schreiber sat, silent and unmoving, without fear until the Hat finally called out, "Ravenclaw!"

Amid a half-hearted applause, the boy strode to the Ravenclaw table and took a place at the very end, far from any of his housemates. Harry turned his gaze back to the Headmaster as Dumbledore finished the opening speeches.

When the food finally appeared, Harry reached for the nearest plate. Ron, beside him, was already tearing through his potatoes as Hermione looked on with a face of intense disgust.

The boys only looked up as a ripple went through the hall, with the Ravenclaw table as its epicenter.

Harry stared in shock as the new Ravenclaw marched out of the hall, apparently without having eaten or been dismissed. When Dumbledore moved to stop him, the black-haired teen sent the Headmaster a scathing look before exiting.

The Headmaster resumed his seat nodding to Professor Lupin, who silently exited the hall.

Harry nudged Hermione who shrugged at the event before returning to scolding Ron about the dangerous effects of over-eating. Ron's protests were uttered around various mouthfuls of food, rather ruining the effect.

As Harry laughed at his friend's predicament, all thoughts of Fakir Schreiber faded from his mind.

-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-

Remus Lupin had been pleasantly surprised when an urgent Dumbledore had come to his home, proposing his return to the recently vacated Defense Against the Dark Arts post. The werewolf had accepted gratefully, longing for the safety and familiarity of his childhood heaven.

His first assignment had been the retrieval of the German transfer student.

The entire process had taken much longer than he had expected, for the boy was… _reluctant_… to leave his home. Remus had been forced to stay in Kinkan Town for a week, and was about to owl Albus with news of a failure when the boy had turned up at the hotel, carrying his bags with a scowl on his face.

Schreiber had never revealed what had led him to accept Remus's offer, and Remus was too relieved with the outcome to ask. The return trip to England had taken much longer than the werewolf had anticipated, mainly due to Schreiber's refusal to take any sort of magical transportation whatsoever. They had been forced to take a train to France, then to change to the Chunnel to get to Britain itself, and finally to take another train to London.

Remus had also been tasked with overseeing the boy's shopping, and after only a day, Remus had begun to wonder if the Headmaster was a bit more sadistic than he appeared.

The shopping itself had been an utter disaster. Schreiber was rude, bad-mannered, and impatient. Remus had done most of the purchasing himself, and yet still had to spend time smoothing ruffled feathers among the shop's patrons.

So, almost three weeks after leaving Hogwarts, Remus had been far too relieved to deposit the willful boy to the Headmaster, ready to wash himself of the responsibility.

Albus took the opportunity to inform the new professor that he was to take charge of Schreiber's supplementary classes, which were needed to catch the boy up to his age group. Remus had accepted reluctantly, and the lessons had begun in earnest.

At first the lessons were strained; Schreiber's natural intelligence was undermined by his silent impudence. Schreiber accomplished all of the tasks assigned to him, quickly and efficiently – but the process was filled with sharp words and glares. Remus dreaded the lessons and was grateful when it was time for the boy to return to his temporary rooms.

One night Remus had headed down to the kitchens after a particularly fruitless lesson. Schreiber had refused to write a paper on transfiguration theory and, after a verbal war that should have been held in loud tones, had stalked out of Remus' rooms and vanished for the evening.

Near midnight, Remus had felt an overwhelming urge to get out of his rooms and become one with the darkness. As he always had done while at school when these urges came, Remus had sought out the Room of Requirement, seeking a place suited for whatever moods would overtake him.

It was to his utmost surprise that he found the room occupied. Despite striding passed the wall that concealed the Room's entrance several times, the doors refused to appear. After an hour of useless pacing, Remus had satisfied himself with waiting for whoever was using the Room to exit.

Hidden in the shadows, Remus was not seen by the Room's occupant until the door had faded into the wall and the person had turned to depart. Despite having a few extra seconds to process the information, Remus was as surprised as Schreiber when the boy finally caught site of the professor.

Schreiber had shed his black Hogwarts' robes for tighter clothing that, while still black, clung tightly to his figure. On his feet were shoes of a make Remus had never seen and one of his hands tightly clutched a sword.

The pair had stared at each other in silence, neither one willing to confront the other. Schreiber almost ended the stand-off when he turned to depart, but something in Remus called out, trying to understand the stubborn youth.

"Can you show me how to use a sword?"

The black-haired teen had been brought up short by the werewolf's sudden request. The boy turned to Remus with an unreadable look on his face, green eyes searching for something within the adult's own.

Remus assumed Schreiber had found whatever he had been searching for when the teen nodded his assent, and turned back to the Room of Requirement.

The rest of the night had been spent with Schreiber teaching his professor how to hold a sword properly, followed by some simple exercises and stances. When the sunlight had begun to filter through the Room's single window, Remus had collapsed on the floor, panting and out of breath. He took a moment to note that Schreiber did not appear to even be breathing hard.

When Remus had inquired about a second session, Schreiber had turned to his professor with an approving look and agreed to meet again in the Room the following Tuesday.

After their late-night encounter, tensions between teacher and pupil had lessened. During classes, Schreiber had begun to ask questions and sometimes explain his reasons when he refused to do something. There were still many secrets he kept, but Remus had been satisfied with the simple compromise and hadn't pressed the teen for more details than he was willing to reveal.

During Remus' sword lessons, Schreiber spoke more than Remus had ever imagined. It was through the lessons that the pair had bonded, and before either knew it, there was an unstated trust between them. Remus did not press Schreiber and Schreiber tried to be more cooperative.

Soon, Schreiber asked that Remus call him Fakir.

It was Fakir that Remus had been sent to find, and, as the professor approached the Room of Requirement, he almost imagined that he heard the clang of a sword, despite the Room's silencing spell.

Remus entered the Room silently, softly shutting the door behind him, and stood wordlessly as the teen worked his way through a difficult kata, blade swinging swiftly and smoothly through imagined opponents.

The kata ended with the sword-sheathing and Remus took the opportunity to approach his student.

"That wasn't the wisest idea, you know. Especially if you wish to remain inconspicuous."

Fakir grunted in response and moved to the basin of cold water that was suddenly present. Remus said nothing more as the swordsman wiped the sweat from his face. When Fakir turned to Remus, his face was neutral.

"I hated to see those children divided, simply on which quality they are thought to posses the most. All people posses all traits, and it is the combination of those traits that makes a person who they are. And I hated the way that the students accepted their separation ad inevitable. I couldn't stand to be near any of them."

"The first years are only five years younger than you," Remus replied with amusement. "They're hardly children."

"Anyone who accepts without questioning cannot be called anything but a child. Was there something you wanted, Remus-sensei?"

"You'll have to call me Lupin-sensei in front of the other students, you know. And that's not the only thing that will have to change with arrival of the students."

Fakir rolled his eyes and scowled. "You don't have to tell me that. I'm not an idiot."

"Albus wanted me to review it with you." Fakir's scowl deepened. "Albus said something to piss you off, didn't he?"

"He wanted me to keep her out of my rooms. I said no. He tried to threaten me. I shoved my sword in his face, told him to shut the hell up, and left."

Remus' eyes widened. He had told the Headmaster time after time that the teen had a need for her, and yet Albus had still tried to ban her under school rules. Did Albus really have a death wish?

Abruptly, Remus strode to the wall and plucked down the sword he used during practices. Fakir got the idea, and the pair focused on their swords, to the exclusion of all other thoughts, until the sun rose once again.

-.-.-.-.-.-

Review and let me know if I should continue.


	2. Chapter 2

Due to generally positive feedback, this story will go on! I only hope I'll be able to do it justice. I've a couple of scenes in mind, but time will tell if they'll work in. Hope this chapter's good!

The Pen is Mightier

_Chapter 2_

Hermione sat silent, textbook out and waiting, as the Advance Defense Against the Dark Arts class waited for the newly reinstated Professor Lupin to arrive. Gryffindor's Golden Trio had shared a mutual excitement of a competent teacher for their favorite class. Harry had been disappointed with the werewolf's sudden departure the pervious night and had been almost unbearable that night.

He had regained his good humor, however, when it was revealed with the distribution of schedules that the 6th year Gryffindors would be attending Defense Against the Dark Arts following lunch.

Which had been, unfortunately, preceded by Potions.

-.-.-.-.-.-

Ron cheerily waved his friends off as Harry and Hermione departed for the dungeons. Harry sent the red-head a half-hearted glare, but a veil of resignation had fell upon him, and Harry couldn't find the strength to be truly jealous.

The classroom was a full as previous years, but Harry caught sight of Hufflepuff and Ravenclaw badges amidst the expected Slytherin and Gryffindor. Apparently the class size hadn't filled two classes.

Sitting two to a cauldron, the class had neatly divided into houses, except, Harry noticed with a shock, for Schreiber. The Ravenclaw was seated in the first row of tables, surrounded by Slytherins and noticeably lacking a partner.

Harry was surprised Schreiber had made it into the N.E.W.T. potions class in the first place. If Dumbledore was to be believed, Schreiber had not known anything of magic until recently, yet the Ravenclaw had still manage to make it into the advanced potions class.

Schreiber was either extraordinarily talented or extraordinarily intelligent. Harry hoped it was the first, because he didn't think he could deal with a competitive Hermione.

Snape entered the classroom in his usual manner, complete with door banging and billowing robes. Despite the fact that after six years the routine was beginning to be predictable, a few students jumped in surprise. Most simply shuddered at the thought of what was to come.

Snape drew to a halt in front of Schreiber's desk, one eyebrow raised. The transfer shot the professor a low-level glare before proceeding to ignore Snape completely. The entire class waited for Snape's explosion, but it appeared they would be disappointed since Snape turned his back to the transfer with the expression that suggested he was swallowing his insults. Which was rather odd, considering Snape didn't hold back. Ever.

While Harry was pondering this likely-to-never-be-repeated-again event, Snape was busy snarling out beginning of the year instructions.

As per usual, Snape teacher had managed to take 30 points from Gryffindor before he had introduced the assignment, the Drought of Living Death. Despite the difficulty of the potion, Harry felt reassured with Hermione at his side.

Even with Hermione, the complex directions made Harry wonder if whoever invented the potion had grown a third arm. After the tenth mad maneuver, involving limbs bending ways Harry had previously thought impossible, Harry glanced around to see the state of the rest of the class.

The Ravenclaws and the Hufflepuffs were a similar state. The Slytherins were faring slightly better since Snape would occasionally lend his house a hand. And the new kid, Schreiber was…

Harry started in surprise when he saw the German transfer sitting silently at his caldron, nose in book, potion obviously finished. As Harry looked on, the potions professor also noticed Schreiber's idleness. Snape loomed over the teen, sneer covering his face. Loathing coated his words as he spoke.

"It seems our newest student believes he has completed his potion. Let's test it, _shall_ we?"

Grabbing an empty flask, the professor filled it with the mixture in Schriber's cauldron. A wave of his wand changed a roll of parchment into a rabbit. Snape forced the potion down the squirming rabbit's throat. The class watched and waited for the results with baited breath.

Slowly, the rabbit began to cease its struggle. Eventually it lay still in Professor Snape's hand. The professor stared down at it with an impassive look on his face, his lips pressed into a thin line.

Snape silently changed the rabbit back into the parchment it had been and turned away from the smirking foreign student. A sharp glare sent the students back to work. As Harry watched, Snape leaned down and whispered something in Schriber's ear. A scowl twisted the Ravenclaw's face but he nodded.

A sudden yelp at his side drew Harry back to his own caldron and the exchange was forgotten.

-.-.-.-.-.-

Hermione turned to glare over her shoulder at the other two-thirds of the Gryffindor trio. Harry's uncontrollable fidgeting was getting annoying and Ron had decided to put a stop to it. Hermione watched as the two boys discreetly hexed one another, each nullifying the spell of the other and neither getting anywhere. The prefect shook her head at them. Twin innocent smiles crossed the boys' faces but as she turned back around, she caught a spell flying at Ron out of the corner of her eye. Hermione sighed in exasperation. Boys…

A clatter at the front of the room signaled the arrival of Professor Lupin. Hermione, Ron, and Harry turned back to the front, eager for the class to begin. Harry cast a dark glare back at the Slytherins, who were snickering at the professor's worn robes.

A clap of Professor Lupin's hands brought the class to silence, anticipatory in the Gryffindors, resentful in the Slytherins. The professor made the obligatory first-day speech.

"Welcome to N.E.W.T. Defense Against the Dark Arts. This means that you have received at least an 'Exceeds Expectations' on your Defense O.W.L. You are here to learn more advanced defense techniques. The first we will tackle is wordless spell-casting."

The lesson was focused on the theory behind wordless spells. Hermione was disappointed that they would not be able to try to cast any spells, but she understood the necessity of establishing the basics. Unfortunately, the assigned reading was nothing new to her, and even the foot long assignment, a discussion of the different theories behind wordless spells, wouldn't be challenging.

When the class ended, the three Gryffindors approached the teacher's desk. Lupin quickly scooted around it and met Harry half-way in a fierce hug. The two had grown closer than ever since Sirius' death.

"How are you holding up Harry?"

Harry gave the werewolf a tired smile.

"I'm surviving. Don't worry about me."

Lupin ruffled Harry's already-untidy hair in amusement. Harry scowled and swatted Lupin's hand away as Ron and Hermione laughed.

"So you three. How is your first day of classes going?"

"Potions," Harry deadpanned. "I think that speaks for itself."

"Ha!" Ron gloated. "That's why I didn't bother! I have to deal with that greasy git and his snakes enough as it is. No need to torture myself."

"Honestly Harry." Hermione cut in before it could get out of hand. "It wasn't that bad. The potion turned out fine and Professor Snape was no more prejudiced than he usually is."

"And Schreiber totally showed him up!" Harry added with a content smirk lighting his face.

"The new kid?" Ron asked. "Tell! And give me all the horrible details!"

"Fakir did?" Lupin mused to himself as Harry launched into a detailed and slightly exaggerated account of the Trouncing of the Slimy Git a.k.a. Snape.

"Do you know him Professor?" Hermione said.

"A bit. I was the one to retrieve him from Germany."

"Germany? If he's from Germany, why come here? Doesn't Germany have its own wizarding school? Heidelberg Academy of Magic, wasn't it?"

"They wouldn't take him. They said he was too old. So Albus offered to teach him instead."

"And he accepted?" Hermione sounded skeptical. "He doesn't seem particularly thrilled to be here."

"He was ordered to attend. At least that was the feeling I was getting."

Harry's story done, Ron cut into the conversation. "Is he always so…"

"Stern?" Harry suggested.

"I was going to say up-tight. He acts so stuck up! Couldn't even stay around for the Welcoming Feast. And the looks he gave us." He turned to Hermione. "Help me out here!"

"He doesn't seem very respectful of the teachers, that's for sure. But I suppose that could be explained away by the fact that he doesn't want to be here. Still, his attitude's a bit extreme."

"Yeah." Harry ran a hand through his hair. "You would have thought Dumbledore killed his dog or something with that look he gave him."

"Terribly sorry to interrupt," Lupin said absently, "but shouldn't you be getting to lunch? There's only a half-hour or so left."

Ron's jaw dropped in horror and he barreled out of the room, followed by Hermione who was yelling for him to slow down, you're going to fall and break your neck one of these days!

Harry hung back a second longer to give Lupin another hug.

"Cub, if you ever need anything, my door's open. Don't hesitate, okay?"

Harry nodded and slipped out the door. Before it shut, he thought he heard an odd sound.

"Quack?"

-.-.-.-.-.-

Good? Bad? Comments are always welcome. Just push that little purple button down in the corner!


	3. Chapter 3

Sorry this took so long. I am trying to write long scenes and longer chapters, and with this chapter I think I have succeeded at both. I also have an outline for the next few chapters written out, so perhaps the next won't have such a long wait. Let's hope, ne?

The Pen is Mightier

_Chapter 3_

Fakir was truly appreciative of where the Hat had placed him. He glanced up from his book for a quick observation of his housemates.

Many of them were reading, just like he himself was. There were groups who were having quiet conversations among themselves, and up closer to the fire, a chess tournament was brewing.

All in all, Ravenclaw was a house where someone could keep a secret and not worry about having it bugged out of them. It was one of the reasons that Fakir had shot down the Hat's attempts to place him in either Gryffindor or Hufflepuff.

'_**Well well well! A bit old for a sorting, aren't we?'**_

'_If I had my choice, I wouldn't be sorted at all.'_

'_**And yet, here you are Mr. Schreiber. Loyalty to your prince brings you here, hmm? That's a Hufflepuff trait, you know.'**_

'_No.'_

'_**But your loyalty would serve you well in Hufflepuff! You would find others to whom you would feel kinship –'**_

'_No.'_

'_**Then it had best be Gryffindor. Courage, strength of heart, ready for action. I'd say you fit the Gryffindor student to a T.'**_

'_No. Nothing stays a secret in that House. And the last thing I need is busy-body wizards poking their noses where they don't belong.'_

'_**Are you sure? True friends can be made in Gryffindor. Our own Mr. Potter, for one, has found the love he lacked…'**_

'_I have all the friends I need. I won't form any attachments here. This is only a temporary arrangement.'_

'_**Not a fan of Gryffindor either, eh? Tough to please, you are. But you do have a secret to keep, don't you? Then perhaps it had better be –'**__ "Ravenclaw!"_

"You'd best watch out for nargles."

Fakir was forcefully dragged from his thoughts by a voice beside him. His gaze met vacant eyes underneath blonde hair. The girl smiled serenely at him.

"Nargles?"

"Yes." The girl leaned in conspiratorially. "Nargles are mischievous creatures that like to take things. I wouldn't put it past them to mess with your duck. Ahiru, isn't it?" she pulled a necklace up from beneath her shirt. The chain was adorned with odd charm. "Keeps the nargles away," the girl added dreamily as she noticed Fakir's gaze. "Luna."

"Er, what?" Fakir asked.

"You were going to ask my name. It's Luna." The girl blinked at him. "Ahiru is really very sweet. I wonder, why are you allowed to have a duck as a pet? Perhaps I could convince Professor Dumbledore to allow me to have a Crumple-Horned Snorkack."

Fakir let the conversation drop and turned back to his book. Luna hummed absently beside him and eventually pulled out a magazine which, to Fakir's astonishment, she turned upside-down before burying herself behind it.

"Excuse me."

Fakir growled under his breath at the interruption. Before him stood a girl of his own year, though the name escaped. By the vaguely hopeful expression on her face, Fakir assumed that she had read more into the conversation with Luna than he had expected.

"Go away."

"Fakir-," she protested weakly.

"It's Schreiber. Leave me alone."

"You know," the girl's nervousness was quickly turning to anger, "you really should make friends with people. Or at least be _civil_!"

"I don't need friends."

"Why are you so stuck up? Do you think you're _better_ than everyone else?"

Another girl shifted closer to the first and placed a restraining hand on her arm. "Padma…"

Padma yanked her arm free. "No! I'm not going to take his attitude anymore!" She turned back to Fakir and the whole room rang with silence. All eyes were on them. "We've waited long enough and it's time for you to get over yourself! You're no Harry Potter so you can stop acting so high-and-mighty! Just because Professor Lupin excused you from the assignment – "

"Shut up!"

Fakir was now on his feet and the stare down felt familiar. His hands formed fists at his sides and he trembled with the restraint that kept him from slapping her.

"What is going on here?" a voice exclaimed from the common room entrance.

Fakir turned to see the Defense professor staring at him. Clasped in the teacher's hands was a small yellow bundle…

"Ahiru!"

Before anyone could stop him, Fakir had relieved Lupin of his burden and disappeared up the stairs to the dorms. As he slammed the door to the sixth-year boys' dorm shut, he heard the calm tones of Professor Lupin soothing ruffled feathers.

Collapsing on his bed, Fakir heaved a sigh and covered his face with his hand. The dimness cooled the rage and anger that had gathered during the argument in the common room.

"Quack?"

As he removed his hand, large blue eyes appeared before him. With a stifled yelp, Fakir pushed himself away from the duck and pulled himself into a sitting position.

"Damn it! Don't do that to me, Ahiru!"

The duck's expression soured and it began a rant consisting of various quacks. Fakir waited silently for its conclusion, and when none appeared forthcoming, he cut in.

"Sorry."

Ahiru cocked her head to one side. An inquisitive quack passed her bill.

"Sorry for taking out my anger on you."

She quacked reassuringly.

"It's just, I don't see why I should have to 'play nice' when it's quite obvious I don't want to be here! I still don't understand why Mytho insisted I come."

Ahiru quacked soothingly and rubbed her soft body against Fakir's hand. He began to pet her absentmindedly.

"And those girls! I know that I had a following back at the Academy, but here it just seems a million times worse! At least at home I got some space. Here it's like the girls think that I'm their property, that they have the _right_ to go out with me!" Fakir ran a hand through his bangs, grunting in frustration. "Well, whatever."

He stood from the bed and grasped his sword, taking it from its hiding place in the bed's hangings. As he made his way over to the door the swordsman cast a look over his shoulder at the duck sitting silently on his bed.

"Are you coming or not?"

Ahiru shuffled after him, her happy quaking fading as they departed.

-.-.-.-.-.-

_The room was dark, lit only by the candle on the table. Stacks of books surrounded him. Harry leaned over the ancient book before him. He muttered to himself before making some notes on a spare parchment. A shuffling noise came from behind him._

_Harry turned to see the trembling form of Peter Pettigrew._

"_Wormtail, did you get any more information on the Storyteller?" Harry snarlled_

_Pettigrew flinched. "No, my lord. I searched all throughout Germany, but no one seems to have heard the name Drosselmeyer."_

"_And the small country to its south? Kinkan?"_

"_I -" Pettigrew hesitated. "I was not able to gain access to it, my lord."_

"_Cerucio." The spell slithered from Harry's lips like a snake. _

_Pettigrew fell shrieking at his feet. After a few minutes, Harry released the spell. The rat animagius collapsed in a quivering heap._

"_I'm sorry, my lord! I was refused entrance by the prince himself! The wards around the country prevented me from entering without his permission!"_

_Harry paused in interest. "Wards? Around a muggle country with no magic? What is the prince's name?"_

"_His name is -"_

Harry blinked in confusion as he was shaken back into wakefulness. The red-and-peach blur before him resolved itself into Ron's face as Harry slid on his glasses and sat up.

"Harry, we're gonna be late for breakfast! Hurry up and get moving!"

Pushing the dream out of his head for the moment, Harry scrambled to get dressed as his hungry friend tapped his foot impatiently beside him.

"Bad night, mate?"

Harry grimaced. He loved his friends dearly, but ever since the death of his godfather, they had taken to fussing over him. Often times it was endearing, and even appreciated, but right after dreams like these, Harry just wanted to forget about them.

Of course, that could never happen.

"Tell you later, Ron," Harry responded shortly. "Let's just go to breakfast."

-.-.-.-.-.-

"Well, if it isn't Potty and the Weasel!"

Harry turned to face the smirk of Draco Malfoy. At his side Ron bristled, but Harry himself couldn't find the energy to react even a bit.

"What you want, Malfoy? If you don't have anything to say, then just leave us alone," Harry said.

For a moment the smirk vanished off of the Slytherin's face, but then it was back and bigger than before. Harry could feel Ron tensing behind him, and shot his best friend a warning look. It was far too early in the year to get into trouble over Malfoy.

"What's this? Potter backing down? Looks like you're becoming an even bigger coward. Maybe that's why Black died?" Malfoy looked positively delighted at the idea. "Whose next I wonder? The blood traitor or the mudblood perhaps? Or maybe the werewolf? I don't know _how_ that beast ever got his job back..."

It took all Harry had not to deck Malfoy then and there. Ron had flushed red and then paled at Malfoy's words.

"Drop it, Malfoy," the red-head said.

"Can't handle the truth, Potter?" Malfoy sneered. "How many more people are going to die to keep you from the Dark Lord?

Harry lunged.

"Malfoy." A body inserted itself between the attacking Gryffindor and the blonde Sytherin. With his forward momentum, Harry crashed into the person's back.

Malfoy's eyes narrowed. "Schreiber."

"Professor Snape was looking for you."

"What did he want?"

Schreiber snorted. "Do you really think he would tell me that? Just go find him."

Malfoy glared at the Ravenclaw for a few more seconds before turning away and heading for the dungeons. Schreiber glanced back at Harry and Ron.

"Only idiots get worked up over words. If you forget that, you deserve whatever Malfoy does to you."

Schreiber turned and headed up back down the hall. Ron and Harry stared after him.

-.-.-.-.-.-

"Remus-sensei."

Remus looked up from grading third-year essays. Fakir was standing stiffly before his desk, a paper clutched in his fist. Remus raised an eyebrow.

"Yes?"

"I need to talk to Dumbledore."

Remus was skeptical. "Why? I hardly think you're going to suddenly declare a love of all things wizard and jump at Albus' bidding."

Fakir's glare slid into a smirk. "Not a chance. I'll leave your boy-wonder to his fate." He grew serious again. "I still need to talk to him. It's important. Urgent."

Remus sighed and got to his feet. A few stiff muscles protested, but a few quick shakes put them to right.

"I realize you're trying to be secretive, but I will have to be present for your talk," the professor said. "There's no point in hiding whatever it is."

"I only want to deal with this once."

Fakir was silent for the journey from the Defense classroom to the gargoyle that marked the entrance to the Headmaster's office. All of Remus' attempts at conversation were answered with grunts or shrugs and the pair fell into an uneasy silence.

Murmering the password under his breath, Remus led the way up to the office. When Remus pushed the door open, Dumbledore was sitting at his desk, waiting. It had never occuered to either Remus or Fakir that the Headmaster might not have been there.

"What can I do for you Remus?" the headmaster asked with a smile.

"Nothing for me, Albus," Remus replied. "But Fakir insisted that he needed to speak with you."

Fakir brushed pass Remus as he approached the Headmaster.

"Mytho will be coming to visit next week. He will be expecting accommodations on Hogwarts grounds and a full tour of the facilities. He also wants for me to schedule a time for him to meet with you. You to have much to discuss, or so he says."

That was probably the most Fakir had ever said to the Headmaster since his arrival. Fakir passed the paper – the letter, Remus realized – that he had been carrying to the Headmaster for his perusal.

"I don't suppose you would have any idea of Prince Mytho's purpose, Mr. Schreiber?" Dumbledore asked as he read the letter.

"I only know what you do," Fakir replied indifferently.

"I get the feeling your reply would be the same whether you did or not." Dumbledore commented lightly. The tightness of his face betrayed his true feelings.

Fakir shrugged nonchalantly, but a smirk crossed his face. He waited for the Headmaster to finish the letter before speaking again.

"I've delivered the letter. Can I go now?

Dumbledore nodded his agreement. "Yes, you may. Thank you for informing me of the situation, Mr. Schreiber. I will make arrangements and send the Prince an owl with the details."

"It would be better if you gave the letter to me, " the teen replied. "Somehow I don't think an owl sent by you would reach him."

Dumbledore's smile slipped from his face, making Remus nervous. "Indeed."

Fakir smirked. "I'll see you later for that letter, Headmaster." He turned on his heel and left. Remus lingered behind.

"Albus, what did he mean about the owl not reaching the Prince?" Remus asked.

Dumbledore grew serious. "I haven't told anyone yet, Remus, but all attempts to investigate Prince Mytho's country have failed. It seems there are protective measures that prevent wizards from entering the area."

"Is that even possible?" Remus said. "And Albus, I had no problems getting in to retrieve Fakir."

"I have gotten the impression that your entrance was an exception, allowed merely to bring Fakir to a more protective environment. Suffice to say, we know little about the country or its ruler. I have no idea what Prince Mytho even looks like."

-.-.-.-.-.-

There it is. If you like it, please review!


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